


Kingdom of Silver and Thieves

by NotReallyLiving



Series: United [1]
Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Difficult Decisions, F/M, Kings & Queens, M/M, Power Dynamics, thieves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-05 08:08:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11009382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotReallyLiving/pseuds/NotReallyLiving
Summary: The Kingdom of Silver never had any true conflict with the neighboring Kingdom of Thieves, but when one of their people make an attempt at stealing a treasured item, things go dark very fast. The Prince, Ellian, has the sneaky thief trapped like a mere mouse and wants nothing but to destroy her, but he soon finds that getting rid of her would be more trouble than it was worth.





	1. Thief Without Honor

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the bad summary, I'm not good at things like that. I apologize if there are mistakes, I did not review before posting this.

All around him, people laughed and danced their way across the marble floor, some shooting sultry glances his way but never daring to approach. That’s all Prince Ellian saw in this pointless ball. No potential lovers, no fair looking women. They all just looked like attention hungry diplomats eager for a spot on the throne. Ellian swirled around what was left in the glimmering silver goblet, watching the amber liquid form a bemusing whirlpool before settling. The days have been droning by lately, especially with the lack of his energetic sister, Ama.

 

Every possible species that was chosen for him ended up being ‘too bland’ or ‘too dull’ according to Ellian, and he could tell that his father was giving up. The King had even tried looking for women from other kingdoms, but his son never budged. Some thought it was his enormous pride that prevented him from marrying, some thought that the Prince was just flat out uninterested in love, but his father understood that the son wouldn’t just settle for anyone.

 

Ellian gulped the bitter tasting liquid, grimacing at the burn of it sliding down his throat. He was was draped lazily across the throne, black cloak askew like smoke as he watched the people dance with those bored eyes.

 

Even he, the Prince of Immorality, was unaware of the shadow sliding across the room; a venomous plan already forming in their head. They were mistakenly plotting to steal the most valuable item the Vultures in Thane had to offer. The jewel was their most priceless possession, even the guards _in charge of it_ had guards. But the person shrouded in darkness was tricky and smarter than most, and it was assumed that stealing it on a night like this would be a piece of cake. The guards would be busy protecting the Prince during his birthday and the door would be left completely unguarded.

 

Oh how very wrong they were.

 

Este pulled her golden hair into a ponytail and cracked her knuckles. She wasn’t new to the whole stealing thing like most in her kingdom, but stealing this would be on a whole new level. She’d have to get and get out within minutes without being noticed.

 

Stealing was like breathing for Este, but she didn't need to unless it was absolutely necessary, of course. Her life was fairly comfortable, with a sickly mother and loving sister, but at times like these she had no choice. Every other night, she snuck out, and snatched whatever small thing someone wouldn’t notice. But with her mother sick and more bills than they could pay, she would have to go for something bigger- not a necklace, painting, nor a collection of coins. Tonight, she was going to steal the late Queen’s crown.

 

She moved quietly through the halls like her shadow friends had taught her, footsteps nearly silent. Once away from that boisterous music, Este heaved out a sigh of relief and stuck close to the shadows where she knew she’d be able to blend, even with the light of her hair. It was possibly the longest hallway she’d ever been down, each stony grey wall decorated with swirls of ink and darkness.

 

She was a few feet away from a sharp turn when a huge door adjacent from it caught her eye.

 

The door was solid metal, and it was clear nothing was going to budge it. The surface was flat and shiny like the outside of a stainless steel chest. Her shoulders sagged, there was no handle, no lock, no hinges, nothing she’d be able to get a grip on. Grey eyes scanned over the top and bottom, even the sides. But it was pointless, the sides were so utterly flushed with the frame that there was no hope of forcing it open even if she had a crowbar. The thought made her snort, all she had on her was a sharp dagger her father had gifted her and a few spare coins.

Este approached the door and placed a slender hand along the smooth metal, searching for any secret compartments.

 

She frowned and summoned what was left of her power, the grey of her eyes flashing a bright silver before the metal creaked open. Este had an amplified ability like many others from her Kingdom; she could open almost anything with half a thought.

 

Este entered the musty room with a faint caution, frowning lightly at the darkness that wrapped around her. It wasn’t a comforting darkness like she was used to, this darkness was full of something malicious. It made something nasty swirl in her gut because this all seemed _way_ too easy, even for her. But the faint sight of glimmering jewels had her body moving on impulse.

 

Then she felt it.

 

The door swung shut before she could move to catch it and a blindingly bright light exploded around her faster than her than her could close. A hoarse whine tore from her throat as the familiar, sickening smell of rotting flesh shoved itself up her nose.

 

Disgusting breath caressed her face as the Rotling advanced on her, its physique hardly solid. With each slow movement that belied the speed it was capable of, slime dripped from its mouth, oozing great globs of saliva and blood that made a vile squelch as it hit the tile. It was poison, rancid and toxic to the touch. The Rotling’s coal skin was gnarled, crumpled and folded like it had recently lost weight, and it looked at her like she was to be its next meal. The beast reeked of raw sewage and rotten fish, and the mere sight of it made bile rise like a tidal wave in Este’s throat.

 

She moved slowly and could practically feel the beast’s frustration grow. It thrashed its spiny tail in fury, narrowed golden eyes swivelling wildly. It was searching, but its nocturnal vision was only adept for discerning rapid motion. Este nearly sighed in relief, but then it began to emit dreadful clicking noises, using sonar to detect this difficult prey. Its large dish shaped ears rotated for the reflected vibrations.

 

The Rotling was built more like a cat than a snake. Instead of killing fast, Este heard it preferred to toy with its food. The first strike was with its poisoned fangs to slow the reaction time of the victim, after that it was play time. She had been warned that its "meal" would be allowed the chance to run, to feel the pounding of their own heart just a few more times and then the monster sank its teeth into the tender flesh of their stomach- just deep enough to let them bleed out slow.

 

The beast let out a rippling snarl and arched its back when the flash of a dagger caught its eye. Este froze.

 

“Kelpie, that’s enough!” A shrill voice cut in, tone sharp and frail. Este watched the beast cower before lowering itself to the floor with a quivering growl. The Rotling crawled its way past the stiff girl and towards the princess, its black tongue slithered past its withered lips to curl around her ankle. There was no danger or venom behind the action, just submission.

 

The princess wore a seafoam green gown made of a soft, satiny fabric that fell down her frame loosely. Princess Ama smiled wistfully at the thief, reaching down to pat the creature on its weird looking head. It would be easy to overpower the frail girl and escape, but not with the Rotling at her mercy. The beast purred in a way that reminded Este of a dog.

 

“You shouldn’t be in here, mother would be very mad.” Ama looked up at Este with a frown on her glossed lips. She straightened up and grabbed at the fabric of her dress, tugging it up in order to enable movement. “I’m going to get my brother, come now.”

 

The moment she moved and those doors opened, Guards swarmed and ‘Kelpie’ as the beast was called, returned to snarling. Anxiety churned in her gut as her hands were pulled behind her back in a harsh way of making her move. Now, Este found herself walking back down the hallway, the numbness coursing throughout her body providing her with an out of body experience.

 

She couldn’t hear anything over the roar of blood in her ears, everything around her was just background noise as they returned to the ball room. She could vaguely heard the buzz of whispering as they approached the throne, and for a second she was back home in the Kingdom of Thieves. She adjusted her arms, the hands around her wrists were digging in harshly and rubbing the skin there raw. Este cringed at the familiarity, trying to make it more comfortable only to have the arms on her grip tighter.

 

She stumbled at a shove, and they didn’t slow, causing her to stumble and trip over her own feet. Este made a noise in the back of her throat, pained and frustrated as she fell to her knees. “You made a big mistake,” the guard on the left chuckled, shaking Este’s arm a little for emphasis. She looked over her shoulder with a venomous glare burning in her steely eyes.

 

There was a humming noise as she turned back around, and then the prince came into view. The sound of people’s mixed voice blending together immediately surrounding her, but the Prince was the only thing she could see.

 

The thrones were seated a few feet apart from each other. The prince sat sideways in his own with his legs dangling from the armrest and his hand cradling his chin. She could clearly see people treated him as if he were the plague, staying as far as possible.

 

She was slammed into by a large force and cried out, the commotion causing a barking laugh to break out before her. It was his birthday, and she was apparently the entertainment.

 

The Prince wore a loose black shirt with leather cuffs and black trousers, but he got better the more Este looked. He had tousled inky hair, which was thick and lustrous. From here, she could see every detail about him. His eyes were a mesmerizing deep ocean blue, flecks of silvery light performed ballets throughout. His face was strong and defined, his features seemingly molded from granite. He had dark brows, which sloped downwards in a wickedly amused expression. His playful smile cut across his face sharper than any knife. His gloved bronze hands, which were capable of doing horrible things, made gentle noises as he clapped them. Este couldn't help but blush.

 

“Kill her,” he ordered with a wolfish smile, too white fangs all but glowing. She could feel the guards bristle with glee at the command, and it wasn’t long before a pair of hands threaded through her hair and pulled.

 

Este bit down the cry that threatened to escape her and grimaced, teeth baring in an angry snarl. She thrashed, and a sick chuckle came from the Prince as another kick slammed into her back.

 

Pain, white and hot, shot down her spine and this time she couldn’t stop from yelling out.

 

Ama’s lips curled down into that famous frown. She raised a hand and snapped a demanding finger towards the guards. The hands were off of Este in a heartbeat, and it took her a second to realize that there was in fact someone who didn’t want her dead. She sagged in relief, but it felt as if a hunk of led settled in her stomach.

 

The Prince looked over at his sister in disbelief, features contorting with rage before smoothing over quicker than the normal eye could catch. His eyes flashed a glowing white before it vanished without a trace, “Is there a problem, sister?”

 

The princess nodded curtly, perfect tendrils of black bouncing with the movement. Ama gestured to the thief with the wave of her pristine hand, “Look at how pretty she is, like a doll.” The Prince’s eyes flitted over to Este before returning to his sister. “I want to keep her, Ellian.”

 

The Prince, Ellian, sighed as if defeated and gave a lazy wave of his hand; the guards reclaimed her arms and prayed her to her feet. The smile he wore was anything but kind, “Then I suppose I need to prepare for the Coro.”


	2. Culling With Pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is off to a horrible start, enjoy.

 

People avoided her with ease as they left, moving swiftly past the guards that had gathered around her in order to exit the room. Nothing about this was familiar. The dagger was plucked from her boot with one fluid motion, and Este growled at the loss. 

 

“The Coro,” the prince explained casually, as if discussing options for lunch. “Is a fun little game we like to play that shall decide your fate.” 

 

Este tensed at the words. 

 

Ama spoke up next: “You’ll be put on opposite sides of Mount Coro with a few weapons. It’s really simple, whoever makes it to the top first wins.” 

 

Este swallowed her fear and crushed it inside of her until it was nothing but a twinge in the pit of her stomach. She raised enough courage to speak, the question falling from her lips faster than she could rephrase it. “What do we win?” 

 

An act of bravery, Amara noted softly in her head. “For you, the reward is your freedom.” The Princess told her with a faint upward curve of her lips, “For my brother, it’s whatever he wants to do with your life.” 

 

Este’s eyes looked over at the Prince, whose arctic eyes were already on her, cold and unnervingly aware. Everything about him was off, even the way sat still in the way only Vultures could, solid and unmoving like a true piece of stone.

 

“I could certainly make room for another head in my closet,” he informed her with a ghost of a smile. It remained there until Ama reached over and snapped those slender fingers, smiling broadly as her brother winced. 

 

Este could see frost peeking out from beneath his sleeve, dancing across his palm until he finally hissed. “Amara Braxis, you have  _ three  _ seconds to get rid of this or I'm going to by  _ very  _ angry,” he shot her an icily cool glance that Este detest him even more. “Or you're going to have very,  _ very  _ interesting dreams.” 

 

Now it was Ama’s turn to wince, and Este watched the frost melt away before sinking meekly into his bronze skin. Este raised an eyebrow, the threat was not empty like the ones she gave her sister, the threat he just gave her was full of a dangerous intent and pure _promise_. These were two of the most powerful people in all of Silver, the thought made Este want to laugh.

 

Ama looked at her with a pitying glance, “What is your name, thief?” 

 

“Esta,” she mumbled, wincing at the echo. 

 

“Oh,” Amara told her as if she was uninterested, shrugging her thin shoulders. 

In all of the nine kingdoms, the ranking of power went straight to Silver. There were the most populated of the metallic kingdoms: Silver, Gold, Steel, and her own, Iron. Then there were the elemental kingdoms: The Kingdom of Flames, Wind, Waves, and Earth. Each kingdom specialized in a specific type of magic, and this kingdom just so happen to be ice and dream walking. 

 

“So, if I beat this royal ass to the top, I'm free?” It was a slip of the tongue really, but it was already out in the open so there was no point in being embarrassed now.

 

But then a snarl broke out behind her, and it took Este half a second to connect the gurgling sound with the Rotling, and another to realize it was  _ in the same room _ . 

 

Panic seized her heart at the same time a burningly cold feeling coiled around her mind, baring its teeth before clamping down. A cry tore from Este’s throat and she doubled over, spilling what was left of her lunch along the marble floor. The next sound to come out of her throat was more beast the human, the painful sensation reminding her of a torturous migraine.

 

“I could freeze your brain over, or force you into a coma if I wanted too,” the prince cooed, his voice being the only thing she was capable of hearing through her own screams. “But that doesn't mean I will.” 

 

It was gone in an instant, leaving Este sobbing and writhing in her place. She understood now why the princess had backed down; she  _ never _ wanted to feel that sort of pain again. Este looked up with a fire in her steel eyes, the intent behind them violent and unforgiving.

 

But she dragged her eyes away from the prince at the faint sound of slobbery jaws snapping. They landed on Kelpie, who was in a whimpering mess on the floor, muscled limbs twitching wildly. Este didn't realize that it had tried to attack her, just that it was experiencing the same thing she had been minutes ago. Her heart clenched painfully, the sound of any animal in pain was bad.  

 

“ _ Stop _ ,” she spat urgently, agony lacing her tone as she forced herself to sit up. Shock briefly flashed through her when the Rotling went quiet because Ellian  _ did _ stop, but it was immediately swallowed up by a burning hatred. 

 

“Would you have preferred I let it kill you?” He questioned with a bemused smile, eyebrows rising in an obvious question. Beside him, ‘Amara’ murmured something something that sounded vaguely like “asshole”.

 

But then she spoke up, tone flat and voice bored; “We should begin the Coro immediately,” but it wasn’t a suggestion. Even Este could hear the command. “Have Ashram get her ready.” 

 

Without so much as a protest, she was whisked away by what must have been a servant. He hauled her up without so much as wincing at the weight, leading her out of the room with heavy hands. But as soon as they were out of large doorframe, those hands on his shoulders became much more gentle. 

 

This boy was from the Kingdom of Flames, no doubt. There was only one word to describe the sun-kissed boy: precious. His eyes were a fresh green that shone bright like sunlight bouncing off of a emerald leaf. His lips were pale and fairly thin with a greek nose that blended well with his soft features. Ashram, as they deemed him, was the image of what a perfect Vetrus was supposed to be. 

But Este couldn’t help her eyes from trailing to the scar he bore. It lay fresh and new against his tanned skin, the jagged skin from his right cheekbone to his jaw silver and shining. “It’s my teacher,” he explained her as he cupped hand over it, red flushing him from ear to neck. “I should have ran faster to the top. My people say its a shame to hide your scars.” 

 

But she cared not, openingly staring at his sharp jaw and rounded chin, even those lovely cheekbones. His entire face, as perfect as it was, was framed by deliciously crimson curls. 

 

Then Ashram gave her a smile and seemed so genuinely sweet that the unexpected warmth surrounding her wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

 

“Let’s get you prepared.” 

 

She was herded into a room that had her eyes widening on instinct. The room was a steel blue with beautiful black murals on the wall, hand painted by someone who clearly knew what they were doing. The colors were like nothing like the washed out and dingy things she was used to, they were strong. 

 

From there she was fed more than she’d eaten in her life, and when she was done, Ashram took the tray and placed it on a nearby table without blinking. He lowered himself to the ground in one fluid movement, unlacing her boots and then sliding off of her grimy socks. From there on Ashram helped her from her shirt and trousers, even when she demanded that she could do it herself. 

 

He guided her into the water, eyes never daring to travel lower than her grey eyes. The warmth of the water seeped into her very bones, moving softly around her outstretched fingers. Being here was sort of foreign to her, soaking in the lavender scented water while her sister was probably wasting away in a ditch with a rumbling stomach. 

 

Este slid down into the water and let it drown out the sound of Ashram and her own thoughts. It wouldn’t be long until the water went cold. 

The whole process of bathing and being soaked until her skin was pruny felt excruciatingly long, yet she wouldn’t trade the moment of bliss for anything. Here she was, seated on the floor with her back in between Ashram’s legs as he gently worked the brush through her hair, untangling the knots before braiding it with careful, quick fingers. 

 

“We’re early.” He told her with a glance at the watch on his wrist and she stood. Ashram looked stepped out from behind her and moved towards the door, “You have time for a nap if you’d like.” 

 

She nodded and he left with a well-executed bow. First, Este trailed into the bathroom to stare at her reflection. Her porcelain skin was ashen, almost anemic due to the lack of sunlight in her kingdom. Gold and Silver were the closest to the sun, hence why the people were generally darker. But Steel and Iron were people paler than even the whitest of paper, to the point of looking unhealthy. 

 

She turned away and snorted, tieing up the braid messily atop her head and out of the way. Then she left the bathroom without looking back, immediately erasing the picture of herself from her mind and collapsing on the bed.

 

 

Este rubbed her fingers along the silken mattress. She leaned down and sighed, pressing her face into cool, velvet pillows. The blankets was thick and irresistibly soft and she vaguely felt like she was sinking into a cloud. It didn’t take long for her to succumb to the call of sleep after being enveloped by that warmth. 

“Wake up, I have your sword.” The soft voice hummed gently. “There’s no more time for sleeping, the evening is here. After today, there will be no more freedom unless you defeat the Prince.” 

 

He led her from the room, his hold becoming harsh only when others were around. 

 

Crystalline doors parted and revealed the unbearably hot outside, and Este suddenly felt very underdressed in her leather, sleeveless vest and pants. The prince was the first she noticed, sitting atop a white horse and sporting  _ hunting  _ leathers. She spotted Kelpie not far behind, panting as it stalked closely behind Ama as she glided around. 

 

Esti turned her attention to Ashram, who was leading the most breathtaking creature she’d ever seen. 

 

The Rilnose looked over at her with its liquid eyes, body tensed and ready to flee if not for Ashram’s grip on the reins. It was clear to tell this creature was the boy’s pride and joy by the way his eyes softened whenever he gazed at the beautiful beast. 

 

She was bigger than any horse with alert black eyes that transferred between people with eagerness. The Rilnose was a sleek beauty, the muscles tolling beneath the supple black coat impossible to miss and impossible to ignore. The beast bobbed its head, nose knocking against the side of Ashram’s with a happy purr. 

 

Her haunched quivered as she rocked forward, tossing her head and swiveling her cone-shaped ears. Ashram moved one hand and patted the side of her extended neck, smiling softly at the satisfied snort. 

 

Este could barely breathe.  _ This _ was the majestic creature she was to ride, the creature that supposed to carry her to battle. 

 

Ashram offered his hand, only for Este to promptly ignore it. The Prince smiled sharply as he watched her hook her foot in the stirrup and swing her other over the Rilnose. He watched her brush a strand of her silky hair behind her ear. Her skin was soft and pale, flawless in a way that made him angry. The people of Thane, the place in Silver of which he rules, would never have skin as fair of hers and he  _ hated _ her for it, 

 

Her eyes seemed to have gotten brighter since the last time he saw her, they sparkled in the sunlight like diamonds, radiant and disgustingly beautiful.

 

But Este was dying out here. She could feel the heat of the always-burning sun beat down on her back and the beginnings of a ‘sunburn’  already forming. 

 

The leathers reins rubbed blisters between her fingers, the beast beneath her seemed to be just as tired of being out in the open. 

 

Ashram gave her a pat on the neck and reached for something on his belt, and it took Este a gleeful moment to realize that it was  _ her dagger. _ She smiled broadly at him and plucked the weapon from his awaiting hand, securing it safely in the boots she wore. 

 

“Don’t tell me you’re just going to give her a  _ dagger  _ and expect her to win?” Este looked behind with a glare before noticing the knives strapped to his thighs. The Prince was being led in a different direction, but his voice still rang clear. 

 

The scenery went by in a blur of green and even darker shades of green while Este just sat there and let herself be guided. Her mother was probably at home, laying there in a pile of her own sick while her sister painted her nails. 

 

“Her name is Una, make sure she doesn’t get hurt again, please.” 

 

Este snapped out her daze at his voice, grimacing when a branch smacked into her cheek, gently slicing the skin there. She cursed, slapping a hand over the wound and wiping away the droplets of blood gathered there. 

 

She looked around and found that the Vetrus had vanished into the woods. Este sat in awe, staring at the great mountain that loomed before her. It soared upward as if to kiss the heavens, just looking at it was easy to tell why gods liked them so much. 

 

A horn sounded, and the beast beneath her reared, neck thrashing and mane whipping around wildly. 

 

She assumed that meant it was time to go.

 

Este tugged at the rains and kicked the Rilnose into a trot, gently treading towards the mountain with curiosity burning in her gut. 

 

Then something changed. 

 

Twigs snapped and the Rilnose reared yet again, but not to make her move, but to buck her off. There was  _ no  _ way he could have gotten to her that fast, even with the Rilnose. Este noticed blood dripping from the creatures slit ear before she was thrown to the dirty floor, mud smearing against her new fighting leathers. 

 

She groaned, but it died in her throat as hands threaded through her new braid and yanked it from its position on top of her head. Ellian wrapped it around his arm and pulled as hard as he could, knee slamming into her face with a sickening amount of force. The next blow to come was a kick to the stomach, violent and unforgiving.

 

A sudden gush of pain jolted throughout Este’s body. Her stomach churned, her arms and legs dropping like lead.  _ No _ , she spat to herself,  _ he will  _ not  _ get the better of you. _ Her tongue was soaked in the taste of blood and she was so bruised and winded, Este thought of just giving up. Her head was pounding, but she forced herself to her feet and brought her fist to the Prince’s face, snapping his nose with a rapid gesture. 

 

He released her as if shot, giving her enough time to scamper away while he nursed his wound. 

 

Este smiled, even through the pain she’d be able to beat him. The people in Iron were  _ fast _ , faster than the normal person. 

 

He may have the strength of a thousand men, but she had the speed of a dozen arrows.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I really lost inspiration towards the end and sort of just... Yeah. I was going to wait a couple days before uploading this but I got impatient and posted it anyways.


	3. A Vulture's Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot has plenty of holes, I'll work on patching them up later. So you might not know how to pronounce theri names so here you go:
> 
> Este: Ess-tee  
> Ellian: El-ee-an

The forest path was wide and clearly uncivilized. The brilliant rays were not dappled but shone hotly from above. Este jolted, the path twisted, snaking around an ancient set of trees. The roots criss-crossed, gnarled and uneven- as beautiful as any picture book illustration. Este took in the colours with unshielded eyes and used her hands where the path rose in uneven, rocky steps.  

 

Este hoisted herself up, hissing in pain as a rock sliced open her palm. 

 

Rocks fell away beneath her feet, but she didn’t budge. There had to be a  ledge, otherwise she'd be falling, but didn’t see one. If she turned her head too far she could lose her balance and fall.

 

But she pushed on, forcing herself to climb the rocks. Already the adrenaline pumped through her unchecked, urging her to do what normally wouldn’t be possible. Sure her muscles were stronger and she was more awake than she’d ever been, but this was a situation where running hard for a long time wasn’t going to help. There had to be hand holds somewhere, she knew it.

 

But for now, Este would have to make one. She held herself up with a grunt, fishing the dagger from her boot and burying it in the stone beside her.

She described the dagger as a piece of stage equipment to her sister, as if it were no more than gold coloured plastic and fake jewels. Her mother said it was something her father had once used in a royal play and kept for sentimental reasons. But if anyone had ever bothered to pick it up and felt it's weight they would have known that to be a lie. 

 

The handle was solid gold and the gems encrusted upon it were obviously real. The blade was as cold and grey as her eyes and still was as sharp as the day it was fashioned. It was all that was left of her mysterious heritage and even she didn't know the full history behind it.

 

She plucked it free after pulling herself onto the ledge she  _ finally  _ found. 

 

Este’s ears picked up the sound just before the knife cut through the fabric along her arm. 

 

“Damnit you bastard!” She cried as the blood smeared along the rocks got a little too slippery. But the ledge was there, and she was pulling herself up onto another before anymore damage could be done. 

 

“C’mon little thief, don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little pain.” 

 

The next knife met flesh, soft and pudgy, and she could hear the squish as the tip of the blade sank deep enough into her side to make her scream.

 

The prince smiled, her cry was a brilliant sound, guttural chokes mixed with an agonized roar. He smirked, and pulled the next blade out of its sheath, cooing at his now deathly white victim. She sank to her knees on the stone ledge, continuing to scream as the next blade lodged itself in the back of her thigh. Her body convulsed and trembled like a rabid animal as she pulled the knives out, thick blood flowing freely from the gaping hole in her side. The cascade of the girl's life source gushed out in all directions, scarlet liquid squirting up all over the rocks.

Este sobbed openly and grabbed at the wound in her side, attempt to just  _ will  _ the skin there back together. 

 

Este was in so much pain she could  _ feel  _ her complexion go ashen. Slowly, she tried to get up but quickly realized how futile it was when Este had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. Sharp pain lanced through her entire being and colorful spots flashed in front of her eyes. Currently, it felt like her whole body had been beaten and every movement caused some muscle or bone to ache. Regardless, she needed to get to the top of that mountain… and away from that damned prince.

 

Wincing In pain, Este started to grabbing at the corners of jagged edges and at the cracks in the stone to help me pull myself closer to the top. She was careful to not look back at the prince. But there was one second, one second she just happened to look down. The prince was nowhere to be found and  _ fuck _ everything hurt. Este groaned and recklessly started crawling forwards again, choking on her own sobs. 

 

Until her hand came down on a piece of too-sharp-stone. Searing fiery bursts pulsated around the wounds, intensifying with each dragging step, jarring and brutal. With each movement, no matter how small, the pain amplified. Her consciousness ebbed. Black mists swirled at the edges of her mind drawing her into sweet oblivion.

 

But she snapped awake and did another turn, dragging herself down path carved in the stone. 

  
And like many times before, she could feel him.

 

Ellian curled around her mind, loitering around inside of her while she tried uselessly to shut him out. He poked at her brain with his greedy claws and play with her mind, even at a time like this. She placed a hand and gripped at her scalp, grunting at the whispered words inside of her ears. 

 

His power surged up her spine, crushing her bones under the pressure of his unbearable strength, demanding to be felt. Ellian was like the embodiment of pain and she was his victim. 

 

_ C’mon, c’mon, little thief _ , his voice teased inside of her head, prodding and demanding.  _ Tell me where you are _ . 

 

But she was almost to the top, and the thinning of the air made her wounds all the more dangerous. 

 

_ Clack _ .

 

Her rage, thunderous and loud, flew over to where the Prince was lounging against some rocks, eyes roaming over her wounds and soaking in her agony-laced expression. 

 

He nodded in acknowledgement with a smile and approached her with a grueling smile. Este didn’t have it in her to run. Her clothes and hair,  slick with sweat, clung to her skin. Her skin felt like it was roasting. 

 

He was almost a foot away from her. He was walking with his hands in the air, away from his knives. Este didn't know what she was doing, but she ran, away from him. She didn't look back but Este could hear him running after her. She am  _ not _ a slow runner, but she was slow enough will all of these wounds.

Ellian’s hand locked onto her shoulder, but she shoved it away with a snarl, pain tugging at her wounds and blood gushing. The prince, in shock, dropped to the ground. But Este could hear him pulling himself up and took off yet again.

 

Pain shot through every part of her body, but she pushed and pushed until there was nothing left for her to use. 

 

She gasped and looked at the world below her, the endless green from the  _ top of the damn mountain _ . Este forced herself to stand atop the rocky surface and raised her arms in victory, quickly lowering them as her wounds leaked. Clouds swirled around her in an icy greeting, licking gently at her face before disappearing in thin wisps. Her eyes began to water, the feeling of just  _ freedom  _ finally settling.

 

"I did it," she whispered to herself, blue lips chattering but curving upward sharply. "I beat that royal ass to the top!"

 

Este felt her shoulders sag in relief, the thought of her sister’s royal blue nails and her mother's fading smile bringing the tears to roll down her face.

 

But then she dropped. 

 

Ellian was there in a flash, catching the girl with reflexes no mortal could amount to. The girl’s body was lifeless in his arms, her blood dripping down his shirt. Nobody, not even Ashram as he approached, attempted to move her from his arms. He held her the entire trip back down the mountain, studying her face. The girl looked like she could be sleeping, unless you dared to peek at her stomach. There you would see her leathers sliced and smeared with blood. 

 

Ellian had  _ meant _ to hurt her, but as soon as the knife left his hand it was as if it had a mind of its own.

Ashram had plucked the girl from his arms a while ago, and now she lay here, broken and yet still disturbingly beautiful. He carefully rolled her onto her side and looked at the thief. Her features were much softer in sleep, the lines that usually creased her challenging brows replaced by the youthful appearance that matched those of others their age. She looked peaceful in a way he’d never be.

 

Ellian traced her lip lightly with the tip of his finger. It pouted slightly, and had such an unfamiliar urge to bite it, to kiss it. Her lip, chapped and bleeding, felt foreign under his feather light touch. Ama watched and followed his intense gaze to those lips, as if they would tell him the answer to everything he didn’t know. And she could tell didn't want to look up. Because if he looked up, he’d find himself at the mercy of her questioning eyes. Ama would plead, beg, to know what he was doing, and he would not be able to answer. 

 

"Do you love her?" Ellian choked at the sound of Amara’s words, something he had not done in a long time.

 

“I don’t’ know, sister.” 

 

Ellian observed her elegant features once more before casting himself into her mind. Forever emancipated over the scape of her mind, never entombed. Heartbreak danced in the seams of her dream, inspiration flowing through the open air, and something tender lurked there. This dream was unknown to him, this was a place where life was full and death was afar. There were no worries other than her own here, no rules other than the ones she governed, no pain other than the grief she placed upon her own shoulders. Wonders beyond his comprehension lurked here, fears waiting to be faced, kingdoms waiting to be conquered, lands waiting to be protected, skies waiting to be admired, wilderness waiting to be explored. Pleasure in danger, pain in stillness. A hidden world never to be silenced.

 

It made him sick to his stomach. Her dreams were alight with wonder and possibility while his own here full and lifeless. Being a dream walker came with a price- he may never have dreams of his own. 

 

Then her mind faded, his eyes seeing once more, his ears hearing the here and now. 

 

But Ashram was there now, sweaty and panting from running. “Something's happened,” he wheezed as he struggled for breath; “She's in _danger_.”   


	4. Victor Without Glory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was literally all over the damn place, sorry XD

Ellian hurled his consciousness into the depths of Ashram’s mind before the boy could even finish, tearing down the walls of mental fire with nothing but primal power in order to find what he wanted. The redhead stumbled back at the sudden attack, face going blank as if a slate had been wiped. Ellian didn’t have the time to be gentle. 

He searched for the freshest memory and latched onto it, yanking it away from Ashram before raking the claws of his conscious down the walls of Ashram’s mind. There was nothing left of the thought in Ashram’s head.

He slammed back out of the Vetrus and stood so fast the bedside chair went clattering to the ground. Amara rose immediately to her brother’s side, her power already crackling in the air to calm and cool. She could feel the beginnings of a snarl building in Ellian’s throat, vicious and angry. He shook his head, mane of black hair tumbling down his shoulders with the movement. He bared his teeth, fangs gleaming and eyes glowing. “They can't have  _ her  _ back.”

Ashram’s eyes widened before he flushed red, the embarrassment he felt showing clear on his face. The walls he had spent years building up were torn through so easy by his prince, and the thing he had been so desperate to tell them was gone.

Ama made a soft humming noise to her brother, gently nudging his cool composure back into place.

Ellian’s body jerked like he was dunked in ice cold water, as if he suddenly remembered where he was. The bubbling rage was washed away with a single thought:  _ calm _ . 

His calm expression returned as if it was slipped on like a mask, the taunting smirk already tugging at the corner of his mouth. His eyes, once glowing and violently white, were now their usual blue. Ellian waved his bronze hand dismissively, “Iron can complain all they want, she's my property.” 

The look those emerald green eyes shot at him was enough to get Ellian’s anger sparking again, but duller this time. Ashram looked generally confused as he spoke, “But she beat you to the top.”

Ashram had no time to counter when he felt a tendril of that tremendous power force itself down his throat. The ghostly hand clenched his throat and he whimpered as it tightened. He could feel the pressure Ellian’s power thrumming to life beneath his skin, prodding at his organs and weighing down on his bones. 

“I know you sense it, little fox. You can feel me dancing around inside that annoying little head.” Ashram felt a tugging in his mind, like something was sifting through his very  _ private  _ things. “Such dirty little thoughts you have about Behami. Maybe he'd like to hear about them. Hear about how much you hunger for hi-”

“That’s enough, Ellian.” Ama cut in, arctic eyes narrowed and dangerous. “Ashram does not deserve this treatment because  _ you are  _ upset, Brother.” 

Ellian raised a brow at his bristling sister, the air around her rippling with her rage. Her lip curled at his gaze, flashing her mirrored fang, “Sure, he had a little crush on you in the beginning and it was sort of cute, but  _ not anymore _ . You will not destroy their relationship because I have  _ so  _ man-” 

She froze at her own words, flushing a vibrant red. Ellian threw his head back and roared in laughter, Ashram blushing just as hard at the confession. He pouted as Ellian grinned, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes. The anger he had once been dripping with was now long gone. He studied his sister with a coy smile, “I did not know you were into that kind of thing, Amara.”

She stomped her silk-clad foot and pouted, lip jutting out in defiance. “Don’t hate because you dislike my fantasies, brother.” 

“You’re both so embarrassing sometimes!” Ashram huffed, and for a minute it was just like when they were kids. 

When Ashram was just a boy that spoke softly but opened his arms wide to anyone who he deemed worthy of affection.  And Ellian, who was just dragged there while his father was on business. He always had a face beyond admirable, so pure-looking and innocent. It was completely unexpected that this boy would grow into a horrendous prince. And Amara, whose eyes always spoke differently from the others, the eyes that told a far-fetched story of horror and pain.

Remembering the day his best friends left was always the hardest. The day at the train station where they all saw into each-other's souls. Ellian came to know Ashram’s fears; and Ashram was everything he could have asked for. All he had asked that day was that Ellian promised to come back and for Ama to take care of the pet she had found along the way.

Rotlings weren’t known for taking care of themselves. 

Ellian smiled at the projected image, eyes falling on the blushing redhead. There were moments where Ellian didn’t want to read minds, but if something involved him he just couldn’t help himself. 

Ama smiled fondly, Ellian had guided the image gently along to her, even if the way Ashram thought of her wasn’t exactly nice. It was still nice to think back on the days her brother was kind.

Ashram had returned to them years later, heart on his sleeve as he confessed his love to the Prince. 

Ellian declined, nicer than she’d ever seen, implying that what Ashram felt was lust rather than love. He proposed the Coro, and Ashram lost as expected.

Ellian frowned at his sister’s recalling of the day and his eyes turned to the scar that marred Ashram’s face, then back to the body lying in rest. “What does Iron want with the little thief?” 

Ashram shrugged it off, “You just wiped my memory, how would I know?” 

Amara studied the sleeping girl, arms crossing over her chest as if to hug herself. A thought struck her, even Ellian could feel the mental lightbulb went off. She tapped a finger against her cheek, “Maylin is coming to visit.”

Ellian shuddered at the thought, thankful for the bitter chill of his sister’s presence. 

_ There was something so disarming about seeing Maylin bare. There was a vulnerability in her earthy brown eyes he couldn’t resist. His eyes traveled from her face to her collarbone, glowing in the semi-darkness, then to her breasts. Without her normal outfit they sat lower, each so perfect and moulded to her form. He lingered longer than necessary, just enough for her to see how little he cared for-  _

“Let me stop you  _ right there _ ,” Ama hissed, her face contorted in disgust. “I don’t want to see your disgusting sex flashbacks with my friend, thank you very much.” 

Ellian shrugged as if the whole situation was a normal occurrence, not that it wasn’t. Amara moved to sit back in the chair, eyes falling back to the sleeping girl. “How long will she be out,” She asked suddenly. Este lay still as a brick in sleep, the only movement being the slight rise and fall of chest. It was hard to imagine that this was the girl who had broken her brother’s nose, the girl who had gotten so close to her mother’s crown. In sleep she looked sort of angelic, her face, albeit littered with cuts and bandages, was fresh and relaxed.

Ashram followed her eyes to Este and made a soft noise of distress, “Behami... says a couple of weeks, she lost a lot of blood.”

Ellian snorted as said boy shuffled into the room. He was a healer from the Kingdom of Gold, but he wasn't like the other servants. Behami  _ chose  _ to live in the Kingdom in fear of his abusive father’s return.

Amara looked over at one of her favorite workers. She had to admit he was an attractive man, but he wasn't her kind of guy. Behami was tall. Taller than the average man, but short compared to those beasts in Gold. 

He paced across the room in even strides, his feet gently pounding on the floor. He was a strong man whose muscular definition had slightly worn off due to his lack of training, but his white medical shirt clung tightly to his skin, showing everyone that he was still pretty fit. Ashram flushed, observing the man with affectionate eyes. 

He ran his long fingers through his short, wavy golden hair and surveyed the patient. The light coming from the windows made it appear as if the very sunshine was liquified. His olive glowed, and Ashram practically drooled. The man's high cheekbones, perfectly accentuated his face, and his full lips were pressed firmly together in a rather pissed expression. 

His eyes, which were normally a simple brown colour, were now a golden honey hue and seemed to express the opposite of how he felt. They were  _ always  _ angry.

Amara had told him that those beautiful eyes would get him into trouble one day, but he never did listen. 

“Yes, six weeks to be exact,” he informed them with a frown, generally pissed eyes turning to Ellian. “You didn’t have to stab her,  _ twice _ .” 

Ashram snorted, hand coming to rest insecurely over his scar, and now it was Amara’s turn to frown. She pushed past her brother and pulled the redhead into her arms, a stiff but welcomed gesture. “Don’t worry Ashram, I’d rather freeze him then let him put his hands on you again.” 

She yanked away at the sound of a guttural bark, and Behami sprung away from the entrance to the infirmary. 

Kelpie’s forked tongue slithered past its blackened lips and it hissed at all of the eyes, plopping over onto the ground with a grumble. It rested its head on feline paws and yawned, blinking its amber eyes up at Amara’s face before dozing off. 

“Well that was uncalled for,” Ellian mused as he sat back down. He looked over at Este’s appearingly lifeless body with tired eyes before easing himself into her mind.

In the darkness of her nightmare he could see her mind  up magical beasts with jaws that held rows of razor teeth. They moved in unnaturally fluid ways that reminded him of Kelpie, teeth gnashing and forked tongues hissing. 

The world she was imagining was a dark and fiery mess, shaking and burning at the edges. He could feel her emotional pain building to the point it was unbearable even for him.

She screamed.

It echoed around his conscious, giving his living body quite the headache. His hand slammed into the barrier of her mind and before he could stop himself, eased the nightmare into nothing. 

There was a silence that spread across her very being and he could feel her melt into his powers. But behind the sweetness of the melody he played in her head, he could feel the bitter tang of sadness and pressure surrounding her like a blanket.

But Ellian eased it from around her shoulders with a gentle nudge of his power.

He, with a bit more effort than would normally be necessary, replaced her nightmare with something much more calm- a place where the sky was crystal blue and the streams ran clear through an eccentric forest.  

He watch Este smile up at the sky and fell back into a field, completely unaware of the dark presence lurking around in the depths of the dream. Ellian could hold the barrier around her for so long, so he did what would only make the exhaustion within him worse. The Prince left a small piece of him  there inside of the dream, making sure it would last for as long as she needed it to. 

He came back to his senses when his sister placed a loving hand on his cheek and the cold lickign at his face crept under his clothes, spreading across his skin like the lacy tide on a beach. Ellian smiled up at her and leaned into her touch, nearly forgetting the presence of the other two people in the room. 

Ama gestured for Ashram and Behami to leave with the nod of her head, listening to the two leave before pulling her brother into her arms. He laid his tired head against her chest, humming along with the steady beat of her heart. 

“I know,” she cooed, scarred hands running gently through his gnarled hair. “It hurts, feeling what they feel.” 

Ellian’s eyes drifted slowly shut and Ama eased up on her magic, setting it to cool rather than freeze. He heaved out his appreciation, pushing her back before stumbling clumsily to his feet. 

She held him up, thankful for once that she tied up her coiled mass of hair as sweat dripped down the back of her neck with the effort it took. She chilled herself and her brother, murmuring encouragement to Ellian. Going into that much head and altering  _ that much _ had a damper on his energy. And as he lost balance and nearly toppled over, Amara grunted but held strong. 

A  _ big  _ one. 

Something was changing in her brother, and it was something she couldn’t help but wonder. Sure, dream walking and just sifting through that mental mess would be rather easy to do on him in this state, but it would be _very_ wrong of her to do.


	5. King of Beasts

An ominous force that took hold of her heart startled Este out of her never-ending nightmare. Her cheeks were wet and her body was bathed in cold sweat. The sheets were twisted around her trembling limbs. Thunder clapped outside and Este cried out, in shock burying her face into the pillow.

She wheezed, curling in on herself because maybe that would give her some warmth, but the action caused nothing but the cold to lash out against her back. 

Thunder sounded- no, it was the slamming of a door. Ellian was there in a heartbeat with a fierce expression on his face, one that expressed just how pissed he was to be woken up at whatever time it was. The look stayed as he surveyed the room until his eyes landed on a distraught Este, huddled in a mess tucked beneath the thin sheets, nearly translucent due to the sweat. 

Amara appeared in the doorway not soon after he did, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. She crossed her arms, eyes tired. “So she’s awake.” 

Este jolted at the sound of voices, eyes feral and alight confusion. She hissed. “How long have I been asleep?” 

Amara looked at her as if Este had just risen from the grave, like a corpse walking. But the expression vanished as soon as it was there, “Almost three months now, a little bit longer than expected after being stabbed.” She looked up as if she just recalled something, a taunting smirk playing at her face, “Twice.” 

Este winced at the memory of slowly being drained of her energy, shooting the nastiest glare she could muster at the Prince. 

There was a weird feeling spreading across her skin, she noted, looking down at the beginnings of frost forming along her ankle. It slowly began snaking its way up her leg, nipping at her already freezing skin. Amara snapped her fingers and the ice  _ burned _ , as if her very skin was being turned to stone.

“Do not make such insulting gestures at my brother you c-”

“Easy Amara,” he soothed, patting her head with a smile Este hadn’t seen yet. She scowled as the frost gingerly melted away, leaving behind damp and thawing skin. Ellian looked up at her, no trace of the sardonic bastard she had come to know. “She’s a little on edge today, we’re going to see our father.” 

Oh, right. Este had forgotten that Ellian was in fact not the king, just the ruler of a little slice of Silver named after their previous ruler, Thane. The people that inhabited this little slice of hell were often referred Vultures, beasts that lived off of the death of others. It was despicable, but the land was beautiful. 

“And you’re coming with us,” he added.

That snapped her out of her daze and Este wanted nothing more than to  _ run _ , but the ache in her limbs would only weigh her down. But then Behami was there in a flash of blinding light, prodding fingers already poking at the bandages. “I’m Behami, the medic.” Este nodded and looked at the golden boy as he continued to speak, “Normally you would have woken up almost two days after, but you were stabbed with Vulture Silver. It knocked you clean out.” 

Amara snorted behind him, dress whirling as she turned and strutted out of the room with a new level of arrogance. Something had definitely changed while she was asleep, she could practically feel it in the air. 

Este inhaled a new scent, nostrils absorbing the delicate hint of vanilla that came from the boy, and her brain flooded with pictures of her family. Her sister’s face just as pretty as the last day she saw her, her mother’s eyes twinkling with laughter and her teeth glistening as she smiled through her pain. So much time had passed since then, apparently, and all Este had left of them was well, nothing. Even in her dream, she had forgotten the sound of her mother’s voice and the gentle touch of her sister’s skin. 

Her chest ached as she thought of what she had lost coming to the castle. No dream could ever replace her family, and Este didn’t think nothing would.  The nausea swirled unrestrained in her empty stomach. A headache was pounding away in her skill, swimming with regret. Este cringed as the feeling of sadness settled in her heart. 

The grief surged with every expelled breath, always reaching higher peaks, never sufficiently soothed by her long intakes of the air. She made a sound between a whimper and a snort as tears began to pilling from her eyes. In that moment Este truly realized that life would go on for her family without her, if they were still alive. She sank deeper into to the damp mattress. Her mind clasped the mental image of them, they were smiling, and why shouldn't they? 

She yanked away from Behami and tucked her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her shins. If could just summon a little bit of her power and fold the shadows over herself, she could disappear. Este’s eyes were already red and puffy from crying in her sleep, and she certainly didn’t want them to see her like this. She let her head fall back down to rest on her knees, and she pulled her legs closer.

No matter what she did, there was no where she could hide from the thoughts in her head.

There was a faint tugging at her mine, that was her only warning before  Este felt the emotions slipping away. She may have hated the emotions she was feeling, but that didn’t mean she wanted them gone. They made her  _ human _ .

Este snapped to life and sprang for the Prince, earning a strange look for Behami but he didn’t move to stop her. She latched on his and clawed at his forearm, eyes pleading, shoulders shaking with her tears, “ _ Please _ , please don’t take them away from me.” 

But they were slipping until she couldn’t piece together the features that made up her mother’s face, nor her sister’s favorite nail color. “Don’t take away all I have left,” she croaked, leaning away from Behami's anxious hands. She shook the Prince with all the strength she could muster, “Don’t take my family away from m-” 

The words died in her throat and Este’s face twisted. She had forgotten what she was talking about, was it important? She reached a hand up to her face, pulling away when she felt the wetness spread across her cheeks. Why was she crying?

For the first few seconds, Este had all the emotion of wet concrete, her facial muscles just as loose. There was no anger, no sadness, no joy or resentment written on her face. She didn’t do so much as appear bored as she  pulled away from the prince as if touching him burned, and she could’ve sworn hurt flashed across his face. She settled back down on the bed and moved so she could expose the bandages on her side.

Behami looked at her with the most conflicted look she’d seen on his usually devoid face, eyes flittering over to Ellian for half a second before he pinched his mouth into a tight line. He looked pissed, but Este assumed it was just his face.

He peeled away the bandages along her sides, revealing fleshy scar tissue that looked as if it  _ still _ hadn’t healed fully. “It’ll do for now,” he told no one in particular, as if he was just throwing the information out there. But Ellian nodded, snapping his fingers in a silent demand.

Behami left and Ashram was in his place minutes later, arms crossed meekly behind his back. Ellian didn’t even bother looking at the boy before demanding a few things of him, eyes still trained on Este. 

He missed the way the boy’s expression withered like a dying rose when he saw her.

The thief scowled as Ashram tugged knots from her hair, no where as gentle as he was in the past. Her mind was already working on a grand escape plan, although it wasn’t like there were people waiting on her for when she did get out. Este’s breath flew from between her lips as the corset was pulled tight around her waist and a knobby knee pressed against her back for leverage. 

“I do apologize,” Ashram said hurriedly, tugging the dress on over the corset. “We have to go and I have no time to waste.”

What he did next was sort of new to Este, but she supposed it was necessary. “Close your eyes,” he demanded and Este complied. 

She wished she hadn’t

Ashram spread a tar-like substance along her eyes and it hardened almost immediately, completely eradicating her ability to see.

“Please hold on to me.” 

_

It was possibly the longest carriage ride Este had ever been on, but it wasn’t like she had been on one before. 

The next thing she knew, the rock hard substance was being picked off of her face until light burst to life around her. Ellian was standing off to her left and Amara somewhere to the right. But Este looked ahead and all of her breath left her lungs in a rush.

Because right now, she was staring at the King of silver himself.

The throne was carved of a the darkest stone she’d seen in a long time, crested with several jewels and what looked like bones forming an elegant coat of arms. Although the seat of Ellian was impressive, it was a mere stool compared to the King’s throne.That throne was bathed in the blood of those who had fought for it and all the anger and wickedness in their hearts.

Ellian looked upon his withered father, and  King . Eril grew more wrinkled with each day; looking as though he had too much skin to cover his wilting frame. His face had lost is healthy brown color and had faded to an ashy grey, looking as though dust had gathered on his rotting body. Ellian remembered when his father looked a powerful man, when he had hair and so long that he could not tell where it ended. Now though, the  king had lost his youthful and handsome looks. His hair was trimmed short, revealing a decrepit mask where every wrinkled, blemish and imperfection could be seen. 

A part of Amara hurt when she looked at Eril, her ‘father’, like this. She wished to remember the mountainous man he had been when she was young; the strong willed and merciless King, the gentle and caring father, the adoring and passionate husband. Yet when she looked at him now all she could see was a frightened old man. Amara looked him with saddened eyes.

"Stare or listen, you can’t do both." Este’s eyes widened at the King’s words, clipped and demanding. 

Amara tensed at her side, arms folded tightly over her freshly bought dress. For such frail girl, Este thought she was sort of bad ass; she liked that. Ellian shifted closer to Este, his eyes still resting on his father like he was the only one in the room. He had this lost puppy sort of look about him, like an actual person.

“Father, why have you called us?” 

Ellian glared at his sister, and Este’s muscles went stiff. 

His glare sucked something out of Amara. Este watched the princess visibly wilt before his first word was uttered, like she had seen this coming. “Be quiet you insolent girl,” he spat much to Este’s dismay. “It is not your place to speak.” 

Amara winced and her eyes burned. This was something they always did in their fathers presence, but it didn’t stop her from wanting to cry. Rage filled Este’s belly, but she remained quiet. Amara felt her ears getting hot as the humiliation settled in. Este glared at him then spat, her tone laced with venom, "How dare you?" 

He sneered at her then laughed in away she hadn’t heard since their first meeting. 

"You think this is funny?" She snapped, but Amara was already tugging at her sleeve, willing her to be quiet. 

Ellian glared at her, hatred burning in his cruel eyes. "You are an extremely stupid girl. Aren't you?"

Eril chuckled and Este prepared to retort only for the chilling tug of Ellian’s power to circle her head.  _ Behave, or I’ll make you,  _ he hissed, his voice ringing out clear in her head _.  _

He turned back to his father and heaved out a stressed sigh. “My apologies father,” he bowed, earning a bemused smile. “They simply don’t know their place.” 

“At least I’m good at being a princess.” 

Ellian hardly ever showed emotion beyond that cocky smile. Este had only known him for a few days if you don’t count the time she was sleeping. Yet she still knew he only showed a polite interest in his sister, but otherwise kept to himself.

But today was different, everything Este had thought was wrong, when Amara had voiced a mere thought, he exploded with words that pulled no punches. He knew Amara better than anyone, loved her more than anyone, and he was using it to his advantage. 

He knew her weak spots and deepest pains - she was an easy target. Ellian and Este alike watched Amara’s face change to hurt and anger. 

“Shut your mouth, Amara.” 

Her mouth snapped shut with an audible click at her father’s words, and she suddenly seemed way less dangerous. 

And much to Este’s dismay, Amara began to cry. She could tell the princess didn’t want to, didn’t want the men to see her weakness. She couldn’t help it, though. Amara felt alone and helpless, like the time she discovered what her true lineage was. Ellian glanced over and steadied himself. A Braxis never stumbled. That's what his mother used to say, anyway. They were a family of strong men and stronger even women. Skin of bronze, hearts of silver. Brave.

He wondered what his mother would say if he saw him right now. It wasn't possible, of course. She was long since dead, sunk into the sea with weights tied to her limbs. A Silver custom. 

Amara wiped away her tears with shaky hands and her father laughed, bringing to life the bottomless rage inside of her. Este held her arms open and let Amara hesitantly step into them, immediately falling into the girl’s arms.

Amara sobbed into her chest unceasingly, hands clutching at Este’s side. She held her in silence, glaring at the two men while rocking Amara slowly. 

The king waved a dismissive hand and Este was herded out of the room. 

The tiny lapse let Amara pull away. She stepped back and away from Este, blinking lashes heavy with tears, before began again, her sobs of misery worsening. It was a while before she could breathe without trembling, and even then she was still shaken up. 

“He didn’t mean it,” Amara reasoned. “Being rude towards me is just a thing he does to get on his good side.” 

Este bristled, voice failing her for a few seconds before she freaked. “That doesn’t- that doesn’t even make  _ sense _ .” 

“Foolish thief,” she groaned, dusing imaginary things from her dress before standing. She intertwined her arm with Este’s in a friendly gesture the thief was baffled by, but didn’t reject. 

"You hide a lot, don't you?" 

Amara looked as if almost swallowed her tongue, turning to take in the expression on the blonde’s face. Her gaze was steady, grey eyes wide like a curious child. Amara released a short sharp breath. 

"How do you mean?" She asked curtly, leading them back into the room with a new air of professionality.  

The girl paused before answering, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Everything you say is so cold, but after today I’m starting to think you’re actually sensitive.”

Amara looked off to the side as they stood under a pillar feet away from where the prince and king were talking, she shrugged. “Every now and then I’m sensitive. Mother once told me nobody would want to be with a depressed girl. So I try not to show that things get to me.” She looked up at her brother, who was talking animatedly with Eril. “He’s never really been good with feelings and kindness. But he doesn’t mean to be like that, but our mother raised a soldier and not a son.” 

Este actually felt sorry for the first time since she was forced to stay. 

_ On the seat in front of her sits a woman and child no older than eight, the boy relaxed into her arms so fully it was like they were one organism, melted together. He had a look of contentment on his face, the kind she wished she could wear. She could tell had everything he wanted in life right there, snuggled in with his mother on the throne. But something changed; as soon as her son drifted away, her face became grave. Without his timid gaze she had no reason to feign nonchalance. _

Este gasped, sucking in as much breath as her body would allow before her knees buckled. 

_ Twelve year old Ellian was walking down the hallway after a meeting with his mother, dripping with sweat beneath  the light armor he wore as if he was a knight and not the prince. His inky had once again been tied up, and he was whistling a low tune to himself. _

_ But Este could tell Ellian was tired. Mother had worked him all day as if he was a horse and not her only son.  _

Tears pricked at the back of her throat as Amara’s power shoved itself up her nose, another memory she was reliving more than painful.

_ Este eyed the weapon he held, watching him stare at it with bleak, dull eyes, the eyes of a hunter framed in the passionless face of a shell. His blunt hands were steady as they sword and tried a swing at an imaginary target. She looked down at her hands- Amara’s hands- as he nodded to himself. _

_ Este screamed.  _

_ The scarlet blood that had oozed down the blade in thick droplets spattered on the floor with sickening sounds. Blood flowed freely from the severed neck now lay in pools around the corpse, scattered along his glimmering armor.  _

Este sobbed and gripped her stomach, that memory and the last were only three years apart.

_ Este walked up to her brother, feeling the questions bubbling in her-Amara’s- throat. She looked Ellian in her eyes and froze.  _

_ There was a cold burning to her brother's rage, an ice that scared her. She'd seen that look in his eye before, but never toward her. It was how he showed his hatred, dominance and imparted fear.  _

_ In a single stride, the 19 year old was in her space and she knew a kiss on the forehead wasn't coming next. If it was anyone else, he would have had his fist closed already, but for his fifteen year old sister it was an open hand.  _

_ The impact confused her brain as her head rapidly flew to the right, a red welt already rising on the skin there. Este stumbled backward, falling knocking into a flowery pot. Tears already welled in her eyes, hand raised to cup the injury. But her brother wasn't done. In another stride he was towering over her, hood held in his fist, face contorted into a version of him Este knew she'd never forget. "I said leave it, it’s none of your business anyways! You’re not my sister!”  _

Este was wheezing now, breathe leaving her exhausted body while Amara just watched. 

_ Este was looking at herself in a large mirror, and Amara was the one who stared back at her. Her mangled lip and obviously broken nose were caked in dried blood, congealed and cracked. The now browning blood drizzled down her face like so much rain down a window pane. _

_ She had never felt so alone, so lost... So incapable of doing even the smallest tasks. And this was only the beginning, the beginning of the pain, the suffering and the endless conga line of emotions that were in store for her. _

“Last one,” Amara cooed, hands making their way into Este’s wild hair. Este didn’t know if she could take it, the last thing Amara made her see was only last year. She made her watch-  _ feel _ \- what she went through during her years with Ellian. 

Ellian was a damned monster. 

The next memory hesitantly clouded over her eyes, and Este could tell this one was from barely a year ago. Amara was only  _ sixteen  _ for god’s sake, what the hell was a twenty year old prince doing harassing her like that.

_ Este’s breathe left her lungs in a rush at the sight of her- Amara’s- mother. Her golden hair was stained and matted with blood when Este stroked it, tears spilling down her cheeks. Her mother’s pale face, which matched Este’s so much, was bruised, covered with great blotches, and three of her ribs had been broken. Her thighs and abdomen had lacerated and were painted yellow and blue. _

_ A face her mind supplied with the name Maylin was by her side in an instant, earthy eyes wide and cool hands caressing her face in an attempt to pull it away from the crumpled corpse. A younger, seventeen year old Behami was off to the side, looking at his charge with wolfish amber eyes that glew in the dark like limpid pools of gold. Ellian was there too; long, dark hair tumbling over his shoulders like a fountain of molten obsidian. Ashram was feet away, hugging himself, skin a ghoulish pale. All in all, they looked like a rag tag team of monsters. _

She screamed, only for her voice to be muffled by a gnarled hand pressing over her mouth. No one bothered to look their way, leaving the girls to suffer in silence. Este scrambled for words, “Y- _ You  _ found your mother. _I_ look like your mother.” 

Amara nodded grimly, curls bobbing with the movement and slowly removing her hand from the other girl’s face. She grimaced and wiped it on the side of her dress, leaving a disgusting wet stain behind. 

“Do what you will with the information,” she told Este offhandedly. “Everyone knows it already.” 

Este’s bones shook with the effort it took not to cry, but she swallowed down her pain. “Ellian said you weren’t his sister, what did he mean?” 

She regretted the question the minute it left her mouth, but it was too late. Amara already raised her hand and struck, leaving behind a stinging pain and the coppery tang of blood in Este’s mouth. “ _ Do not ever  _ bring that up again,” she hissed ferally, eyes wild. 

But it was too late now, the curiosity was already gnawing at her mind. 

_ Curiosity killed the cat _ , that bastard prince purred in her head, and she shuddered as something brushed against the walls of her mind.  

Este snorted, thinking loud and clear:  _ but satisfaction brought him back _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make their ages clear, but if they still aren't, here you go.   
> Este - 17  
> Amara -16  
> Ellian - 20  
> Behami - 18  
> Ashram - 17  
> King/Eril - 94


	6. Time Without Flaws

 

“You  _ beat  _ her because she asked you how she felt!” Este screeched in disbelief, livid with anger and emotions she wasn’t too familiar with. She truthfully didn’t know  _ when _ she mustered up the courage to yell at the Prince, but it had come along somehow and she was definitely not complaining. 

Ellian just stared and listened while she fumed, and if the intensity of his gaze held any real force, she would be bruised. He didn’t respond to her verbal lashing, he just sat there while she hurled whatever words she could think of at him.

“You can’t do things like that, even if you are a Prince! It’s not right, Ellian, and you should know that.” 

He looked up at with dismissive eyes, shifting his weight from foot to foot in a gesture she didn’t recognized. Ellian watched her seeth; listened to her vent when she knew he didn’t have to. But Este had cornered him as soon as they returned to the palace with a new air of confidence about her; a confidence that was too amusing to ignore.

“Are you done?” He asked with a bemused smile, eyebrows raising in question. 

She snorted, rolling her eyes at his arrogance and crossing her arms. Ellian pushed off the wall he was leaning against with an effortless push, “Amara is having on of her little dinner parties with friends from other Kingdoms, you’re attending.” 

It was Este’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “And you’re not?” 

He brushed past her, shoulder bumping against shoulder, “After that little show today, I’m not invited.” 

Este didn’t ask.

Hours after getting ready for this party, Ashram was seated with kicking legs on the counter before her, a box at his side. It was a beautiful shade of silver, with worn metal edges and a layer of dust. But it was tiny, tied up with string, and engraved with the initials ‘S.B’. There was only one person with those initials Este knew of:  _ Sadia Braxis. _

“That-that’s the-” 

“Queen’s makeup, yes,” Ashram cut in with a wistful smile. “I was allowed to keep it after her passing, and now I’m going to use it on you.” 

She sighed and shook her head, eyes drifting shut in a sign of unyielding trust.

Ashram hummed happily and applied a light layer of powder to her face. Extract from what smelled like rose petals were used as rouge while a stick of kohl was used to gently line her eyes with black powder. She snorted as something was rubbed on her lips, creamy and disturbing.

He finished in minutes, hopping off of the marble with a satisfied smile in order to let Este have a good look. She observed herself in the polished silver mirror and was utterly confused, because this girl looked nothing like the one she saw during her first stay. The kohl made her silver eyes brighter than usual, almost to the point they glowed.

Ashram truly did have good taste. She twirled in the mirror and watched the fabric whirl. She wore a black dress, edged with beautiful white lace. 

But then she noticed the frown, a question already forming at her lips. Ashram shushed her and bustled about the room until he gathered all the jewelry he could find. Pearl earrings were fastened to her ears and a necklace was slipped around her neck.

Este held the jewel dangling from the chain in her hand. In the light it glittered like the moon; the brilliant red hue was so vivid it was how she imagined crystalline blood would appear if such a thing existed. 

“This is from the land of flames,” she noted and received a nod. Ashram admired her beauty, “Yes, it was my sister’s long ago.” 

“Ash, this is too much. I can’t-”

“Oh hush,” he chuckled. “It’s not like you’re going to keep it. Come on now, they must be waiting.” 

The dining-room was exquisite. The walls were covered with a shimmering silver paper and in the middle of the ceiling above the carved marble table for eight was a chandelier. Down the center of the table was a runner with a complex design woven in black. At the end of the table were floor to ceiling crystalic doors, left slightly ajar to let in the scented air. The polished silver cutlery shone brightly in the early evening light, placed beside the shining plates. At each seat stood a tall empty wine glass and beautifully folded napkins to match the runner. All that was missing were the food and the guests. 

Yet, a more lovely sight awaited her. There sat Amara at the head of the table; her soft, bronze shoulders were exposed and her dark chocolate curls falling down her back. Her lips were carefully tinted a darker shade and her skin was absolutely flawless. Her blue eyes shone like twin moons in the grand dining hall. She wore a form fitting dress of lace and black. 

Este smiled at her and lowered herself down into a chair next to her, sinking into the thick velvety cushion.

The servants began bustling about, the table was soon laden with delicacies unknown to even Este. Everything she could think of was laid out, and even the things she never dreamed of. Whole roasted cows and pigs still sizzling as if fresh of the spit. Huge platters of fowl stuffed with savoury fruit and nuts. Ocean creatures drizzled in sauces or begging to be dipped in spicy concoctions. Countless cheeses, breads, vegetables, sweets, waterfalls of wine, and streams of spirits that flicker with flames.

Her stomach snarled and howled at the sight of food, and from it came the not-so-subtle undertone of pain. It came in waves and it seemed as though her stomach was slowly digesting itself. Este clutched at it through the corset, pushing and rubbing at it in an attempt to silence it but to no avail. It grumbled even louder, earning her a few curious stares from the buzzing workers. She flushed.

And then came the guests, filing one by one into the seats around her. 

A breeze brushed past as the first woman entered, no doubt from the Kingdom of Wind. The air around her seemed to purr, teasing the thin strands of her silvery hair. Her eyes an unsettling were white, devoid of even the pupil, yet her smile full force. “Amara!” The woman hooted happily, her voice every bit as beautiful as her appearance. Her white dress was tight enough to show her flawless figure, a asset that was most certainly not a mistake.

“Hello, Leena. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Este snorted at the obvious pun, those from the wind were known for the lack of sight, yet knowledge of where  _ everything  _ was. 

The next appeared in the room with water billowing around the bottom of her dress. Este thought for half a second that burnt sienna had never looked so beautiful on a woman. With black hair of wool pulled in a ponytail and her head held high, she entered the room with an effortless saunter. Her eyes scanned the room with determination in search of someone, when her eyes Amara’s, she smiled. So beautiful it was like the stars themselves decided to rest behind the soft cushion of her lips. Amara nodded in acknowledgment, “Hello, Alia.” 

The sound of reality itself ripping was like an explosion backwards. A sound Este didn't know what to call filled her ears, followed by a  _ zip  _ as the walls of the castle turned in on themselves and vomited back out. Shadows and space in half before her eyes, revealing a dark pit that burned hotter than the sun. 

Not the sun, but something worse. It was cold, it was ice colder than Amara’s could ever be, ice that existed before the sun was even a mere thought.

A single feminine let appeared from the void. The body that followed stole the literal breath out of Este’s lungs. They were from Steel, she noted without hesitation, the Kingdom not too far from her own.  Este observed the beautiful woman in front with n o restraint. Her tall frame and slender body were like of a model, albeit lacking a little meat upstairs. 

Her blue eyes, nearly black like the night sea, were calm and emotionless as they surveyed the room. She walked towards a seat and Este saw the shadows curling at her feet like obedient snakes, her companion following.

Her inky curls were black and curved into loose ringlets, yet appeared so undeniably soft. It gave a contrast to her face, her hair so dark against the milky skin she was coated in. The molten shadows wrapped around her and the boy like a blanket, a protective layer to shield them from the world. She held out her hand in front of her and Este watched it become partially obscured by darkness, awe shining in her eyes. But the way she glared was masculine, as if she planned to stop a heart with that stare.

The boy that entered behind her could be no older than 15 with the form of an adult but not the confidence. He moved like he was still taking the tall body for a test drive, not really sure if it was his to claim. When the other girls looked his way he returned the glance with a hint of shyness just before turning away, back towards the woman that matched his appearances closely.

His appearance alone was simply innocent. His porcelain features were fragile and childlike. His raven black hair, which glisten in the light illuminating from the window, was combed back with a steady hand and care. 

The dark blue eyes of the boy were full of childish curiosity as they met Este’s, as if asking why she was staring. But she could see the way his thin pair of lips formed a faint smile. 

“What’s up with her,” Este mumbled over to Amara, nodding over to woman draped in shadows. Amara’s glare was fierce, her foot coming down on Este’s with enough force to make her wince. She clamped a hand on the back of her neck and yanked, leaning in close to Este’s ear, “ _ She _ is a guy.” 

Este flushed a bright red and choked on her breath as she was released, only to meet the coy eyes of the  _ man _ . “Well,” he spoke, amused voice as soft and feminine as his appearance, “I am a man by your standards. I am human by my own.” 

Este looked down at her hands and nodded. 

Amara, “This is Nedra,” she gestured to the older boy who Este had so rudely misgendered, “And their twin brother Adrien.” 

_ Oh _ , Este thought to herself, resisting the urge to slam her head into the table.  _ I’ll have to tuck those pronouns into my memory book. _

She ignored the strange look Amara sent her for the rest of the meal.

_

He hadn’t meant to upset the creature, but it just appeared so exotic he couldn’t keep his hands away. The boy had strayed from Nedra’s side and knew he was to be punished later, but he at least he would be satisfied. 

A string of curses unraveled from Adrien’s tongue, like yarn unfurling, as the creature advanced. The patches of fur bristled with hot anger along with it's bright, cold eyes as they met his own. Every step it took rattled his bones and struck his heart with a new wave of panic. Adrien tried to dodge a swing from its massive claws and raise a shield, but the Rotling struck his side and he tumbled to the ground with a cry. 

He could hear nothing, all was silenced, even the hisses of the creature as it approached. All he could do was feel. Feel the cold ground pressed against his wound, the heat from the pain, and the rhythm of his own heartbeat. He closed his eyes as he felt a searing pain, but then there was something before him. It wasn’t a shadow, that much was clear, but it obviously meant to help him.

The fear travelled in Este's veins but never seemed to make it to her facial muscles or skin. Her complexion remained pale, her eyes as steady as if she were staring at the wall and not protecting the boy from the tame monster. She let out an irritated sigh and turned to face him, showing Kelpie that she wasn't afraid to turn her back.

She pulled the boy into her arms and glanced at the snarling beast over her shoulder, lip curling up in disdain. She cradled the back of Adrien’s head and rocked him gently, feeling the way his breath exhaled in shaky gasps. He was going to black out. 

His heart hammered against his chest so hard she could feel it in her own, a frown tugged at her lips. 

She didn’t know who to retrieve, and she’d have to figure it out soon. She could hear the faint panting of Kelpie as the beast retreat, leaving them to suffer.

Este had held her hand to the slash in his side, but the pressure she applied looked as if she was only making it worse. The blood still gushed between her fingers and oozed under her hand. Este's hands became slick with blood, the red fluid loosening her grip but she just pressed harder.

“Stay with me,” she murmured into his hair, angling her head away from his body, “Someone help! Now, help!” 

Time blurred by after that, she could feel Ashram pull the fading boy from her arms and he left her with sluggish movements. She was pulled from the floor by someone and ushered down the path towards her room. 

Este stopped moving in front of the infirmary, long enough to catch the smile Nedra had given her and the appreciative nod. 

But she looked over at Adrian, his eyes glisten with tears whilst his brother stroked his raven hair, his body hiding him from the rest of the world. His big brother watched over him like a hawk, blue eyes sharp and alert. 

Este might not have had have super strength, or eyes that burned like the sun. She couldn't read minds or move things without touching them. But she saved him from the monster, the villain that tried to take him in his sleep, and she did so bravely. She could tell by the way their eyes regarded her with new respect that she had become his hero. 

Those hands were on her again, shoving her past the opening and into her room.  As soon as the door clicked shut there was a muted thud of a body hitting the floor. Ellian didn’t have to look to know she had unraveled, the fear he had felt coming from her finally taking over her system. Her softness, he had found, was her greatest asset but her strongest weakness. He could see her shoulders shaking in hte gloom, but she not from fear. Her memories were returning, and whilst he didn’t understand it, he respected her strength. "Mom," was all she spoke before slidibg down the wall.

"That was a very brave thing you did." He walked up to her and crouched before her, turning her face gently so their eyes met, “You look so much like her.” 

His arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm in soft movements. Despite the heaviness in her stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against his. She sunk into the warmth of his side, appreciating the simple gesture as the waves of her past washed over her. His touch made the room unbearably hot a little colder somehow.

“I have a mother… and a sister… how could I forget?” 

But then it struck her, how  _ could  _ Este forget such a thing? There was only one way for that to happen, and she doubted Amara would do such a thing. 

She pushed away from the prince as if his touch burned, words forming in her throat but dying quickly. Panic arose in her chest, heart pounding against her ribs. “You- _ You _ did this to me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we have some new powerful women and my all time favorite characters, Nedra and Adrien.


End file.
